


Of Fangs and Death

by ruthlessmegatron



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/F, F/M, Friendship, Gore, M/M, Romance, badass writing, battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4131003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthlessmegatron/pseuds/ruthlessmegatron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know it is time, Da’len. Leave before they have a chance to catch you." Her teeth bites into her fist, drawing blood. "I know." she whispers, steeling her will. "I won't be late, this I promise. No one else will perish because of me." </p><p>  Faye Tabris, leader of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, must unite the fighting people to rise against the impending darkspawn horde. Her actions decide the fate of Thedas, her companions, and herself. How far will she descend to ensure the survival of those close to close to her? How much of her humanity is she willing to sacrifice in order to save them all? For in order to defeat a monster, another monster is necessary. And what is awakened could shake the very faith of all of the nations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Killer in Chains

**Author's Note:**

> To Clarify:  
> -from now to the end of this story, italicized words -not- in "quotation marks" means an internal thought of a character. Italicized words inside "quotation marks" mean emphasis, like usual.  
> -use of Elven words this chapter

 “You have got to be kidding me. He tried to kill us, and you’re going to question him?! Are you insane?! He’s an assassin, he could be playing dead for all we know!” _I don’t care._ The rest of the party looked at Faye expectantly, confused at her sudden turn of mercy. She stations her hounds on both sides of the man, anger flaring. _This-he is different._ Her thumb glides over the slick edge of the bow, eyes boring holes into her fellow warden’s. “I need to find out who he’s working for.” _Liar._ Alistair runs his hand over his face with a defeated sigh, throwing his hands up and baking away, muttering about her impulsiveness.

 The elvhen warden peers into the forest’s edge, deciding the best entrance to their camp. “Ah yes, trust the mysterious elf! That’s the grandest idea I have heard next to leaving little Alistair in Sten’s cage.” Morrigan comments, leaning onto her staff. Faye rolls her eyes and squats in front of the fellow elf. “Sten, have you finished tying those ropes?” He nods, standing up. “It is done, Warden.” His voice rumbles, low and solid above her. “Good, the sooner this is finished, the better.” Faye gestures towards Morrigan with a vague flap of her gloved hand. “Would you wake him please?” Morrigan stretches, walking behind the prisoner. “I suppose I can muster the energy for a merciful and noble individual such as yourself. It is a wise plan indeed to find the person responsible for this confrontation.” Faye ignores her, watching silently as the blonde elf is clad in a soft blue light, meadow grass swaying in the breeze. She cannot shake the look in his eyes before the release of the arrow. The bite of the cord, the pull of the arm, the thrill of the battle. _All to be brought to a halt when you were shaken._

 The elven assassin groans, sluggishly opening his hazel eyes in surprise. “I-ah, what? Oh-I rather thought I would wake up dead-” he winces in pain, discovering the binds. “-or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you have not killed me yet.” Faye eyes flash wickedly, fingers scratching underneath the growling wolf’s jaw. “I decided I wanted to torture you first.” Morrigan and Alistair collectively groan, knowing exactly what Faye was implying. “May Andraste help us all.” Alistair mutters quietly.

 The assassin laughs, throwing his head back. “There are little things better than being ravished by a beautiful sex goddess, though I must admit that these are not under my normal circumstances. I’ll get straight to the point to avoid actual harm, yes?” He rolls his shoulders carefully, highly aware of the two growling canines next to him. “My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of killing any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.” _What a beautiful accent. You should bed him immediately and slit his throat after._

 “I’m rather pleased you did.” Faye replies, voice smoothing over the inner dialog. “So would I, in your shoes.” He glances at her bare feet with a raised eyebrow. “-or lack thereof. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn’t it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one’s budding assassin career.” The wolf’s mane bristles, lip curling as Zevran rearranges himself. He acknowledges the threat and deems to rather be uncomfortable than bleeding out.

 “Such a shame, really.” Faye sarcastically comments. “Ah, yes. Too bad for me.” Bittersweet, he smiles hollowly. The mabari lunges in, licking Zevran’s chin as his eyes widen in horror. Slightly disgusted, he makes to wipe the slobber off, but a soft growl from the wolf freezes him in place again. “What is this, good guard bad guard? If that is the case, my enchanting friend, what does that make you?” He asks slowly, eyeing the excited hound.

 “An enigma.” Alistair mumbles, crossing his arms. Zevran flicks his gaze to the templar. “Really? Your mystery deepens, beautiful warden. In the hopes of the sparing of my life, I am more than willing to offer any information you desire. I am not sure how much longer your furry companion here is willing to leave my armor unsoiled, so let’s hurry this up, shall we?” Zevran addresses her, ears twitching back in fearful surprise as the wolf warns louder. _Elani, not now._ The she-wolf complies, relaxing enough to let the assassin breath normally. “They will not do anything I forbid. Your life is safe-for now.” Faye states, tucking some of her wheat-colored hair behind her ear. Zevran looks at her in wonder, knowing that she communicated with the beast but not how. _A question for later-if there is a later._  he thinks, not trusting the animal to listen if he attempted to wipe the drool off again.

 “What exactly are the Antivan Crows?” She asks him, curious. _Little Alienage elf, you know nothing of this world. How angry you feel at your incompetence!_ Faye breaths deeply, resentment rising. _Shut. Up._

 “I’m glad you asked. I’m surprised you have not heard of us, we are rather infamous back in Antiva. The Crows are a guild of assassins, as you most likely have figured out yourself.” He pauses, thinking to himself. “I suppose I should say they, because by the end of this interrogation I will either be dead or free. One does not survive having failed a mission from the Crows!” he laughs.

 “Infamous for not being very good assassins, I see?” Faye taunts, sliding her bow onto her back. “Oh fine. Is that what you Fereldans do? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty.” he goads back, entertained by her fast wit. _Saucy minx._

 “Who hired your team?” Faye questions. _You know you don’t care about the answer for that, you already know who. Why don’t you ask him what you really want to know?_ She blocks the thought from further forming in her head. “A rather stern fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was?” He glances back at her again, cocking his head. “I have no idea what his issues are with you. The usual, I imagine? You threaten his power, yes?” Faye nods. “Ah, I love it; politics truly are the same everywhere.”

 “Are you still loyal to Loghain?” Zevran looks at her in masked surprise. _Now, that is interesting. What an odd question to ask, unless of course, you do not plan to kill me._ “My, my, do I sense the sweet taste of freedom or is that my hopeful imagination, dear warden?” He asks with upturned brows. “Well, dear assassin, that all depends on your cooperation, now doesn’t it?” Zevran laughs, quickly wincing from his wounds. “I assure you, any loyalty I had was from the ungodly sum of gold paid for your, excuse me, disposal. Beyond that, no, I am not loyal to him.” Morrigan snorts in response.

 “Why are you telling me all of this?” Faye demands. _Naive._ “Why not? I wasn’t paid for silence-not that I offer it for sale, precisely.” Zevran replies, mirth coating his words.

 Faye fingers the handle of her dagger before speaking. “Tell me: if I was to let you go, could I expect the same amount of loyalty that you showed to your employers?” _Are you an idiot? That assassin has dug his talons into our flesh, threatened the lives of our fellow hunters, and you offer him freedom?! Life?! Finish the hunt, elf!_ Her grip tightens on its worn pommel. _My flesh. You do not make any of my decisions for me-not now, not ever. Be silent, else I make the decision to silence you myself._ The canines turn their heads to their leader, ears flicking back in confusion. _Ma nuvenin, Da’len, but you will regret trusting him. Do not think you can repress me for long._ Faye forces her hand to relax again. _And you, in turn, will learn to stop underestimating me, Banal’ras._

 “Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you’re done interrogating me, we can discuss it further.” Zevran answers suggestively, smirking at the hint of a blush on Faye’s ears, unawares it was from her briefly forgetting his presence.

 “What’s stopping you from discussing it now?” She counters. “I do seem to be a little tied up at the moment-but that’s never stopped me before.” He winks, smirk widening as her blush deepens. It quickly slides into an anxious grimace when Elani growls in repremantion. “Well, here’s the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit.That’s how it works; if you don’t kill me, the Crows will.” He pauses, slowly shifting his weight while eyeing the wolf. “Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you instead.” Faye opens her mouth to reply, but the assassin interrupts her. “I happen to be a very loyal person, up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That’s not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you’re the sort who would do the same thing. In which case I… don’t come very well recommended, I suppose.” he finishes lightheartedly.

 “You must think me royally stupid!” Faye retorts in disbelief. Zevran smiles again, pushing his charm. “On the contrary. I think you are royally tough to kill. And utterly gorgeous.”

 “You are currently laying in a growing pool of your own blood, and yet you still offer empty compliments. Were I in your shoes, I would be more concerned with my wounds than bedding the woman in front of me.” She offers, gesturing towards the injury made by her arrow.

 “What can I say? I’m an eternal optimist.” he shrugs cheerfully. “There are worse things than serving the whims of a deadly enchantress.”

 “What say you in defense? Can you even do anything besides becoming captured and flirting incessantly?” Faye questions, hardening. _This is not a choice to make lightly._ she thinks to herself.

 “Ah, but of course! Besides being a professional lock picker, I am a top-notch assassin, well versed in poisons and sabotage galore. Along with my blades, there are many talents worth keeping me for, if you so choose.” He implies huskily, eyebrow raised.

 “What would you want in exchange? How do you profit from this?” Faye snaps, anger flashing bright. The assassin flinches back in surprise. “Well-” he laughs nervously, staying comically still. “-let’s see. Being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful for you. And somewhere along the line should you decide you no longer have need of me, then I go on my way. Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?”

 Glowering, Faye unsheathes her dagger, whipping the sun-warmed edge against his throat. Wild, untamed, her eyes flash feral, hunting for an answer for a question she cannot understand. _What are you looking for, dear warden?_ he wonders, eyes widening in surprise. Her breath hisses in frustration, pressing, searching, starving for that _something_ that made her miss. _You didn’t miss, you never miss._ the voice taunts, enraging her further. She snarls, desperate for the magnetism from which he stayed her shot. Crimson seeps down bronze skin in short, shallow beads. A resigned sigh trails through his lips, leaning onto her scathing blade in acceptance. Faye’s stance softens for a fraction, like a flash of humanity in a raging werewolf, gone just as quick. _There it is._ Her heart beats rapidly in triumph.

 “If you attempt to kill me again, I will not stop myself a third time.” She growls, leaning into his lithe form as she removes the steel, grabbing the bound arms behind him. Zevran turns his head, hot breath trailing on her neck. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” he breaths, lips brushing against her ear. His throaty voice sends shivers across her skin; goosebumps rising in betrayal.

 “What?! You’re taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?” Alistair protests. _He will not stay to his word!_ “It is my decision.” She asserts impassively, cutting the ropes on Zevran wrists. “He will answer to me, and to me only.” Her fierce gaze cuts down the ones before her. “We are in no position to decline help from the capable.” _Do you even understand what you desire, warden?_ The second rope snaps under her blade.

 “I can see your point.” Alistair begins slowly. “Still, if there was a sign that we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello.” Sighing, the witch summons her energy again. “A fine plan. But I would examine your food and drink more closely, were I you.” Morrigan comments, casting a healing spell on the wounded Antivan. “That’s excellent advice for anyone.” Zevran replies. Keeping watch on the hounds and leader, he stretches his limbs slowly.

 “Give me your hand.” Faye commands, offering hers afters she sheathes the blade. Not giving the canines the chance to act, Zevran quickly complies, using her grounded weight to help him stand.

 “Undress.”

 Zevran gasps in mock disbelief. “Already? My, you are an impatient minx. I will happily obey, dear-”

 “You think so highly of your silver tongue that you do not pause to think. Have you not noticed the arrow still stuck in your flesh?” Faye interrupts, pointing towards his chest. “I am moving you somewhere more safe before we remove it, along with setting your broken rib. This clearing is too open.” Her eyes travel along the meadow’s expanse, settling on the trail fastest to their settlement. “The spell Morrigan cast was a numbing spell. You should last until we reach camp; though it is far.”

 _Ah, such a shame._ “Another time, perhaps, yes? Until then, I suppose a taste would sate your hunger.” Zevran winks, unbuckling the clasps on his chestplate.

 “I would think not, elf. She has no desire to be with you.” Alistair objected. Zevran’s face slid into a lazy grin, carefully shedding the upper armor to expose his chest. “She seems more than capable to speak for herself, what is it- Alistair, yes? Is it possible that you too desire for the tender touch of a man in the dark? The way you carry that shield and sword with ease-ah, the things I would do to you.” Zevran runs his eyes slowly down the templars form hungerly, leaving nothing to the imagination. Alistair’s face quickly turns into a deep shade of red. “I-I am not a piece of meat to be oogled, elf!” he sputters. Zevran laughs, tutting in disappointment.

  _I do not have time for this._ Faye whistles a three-note tune, focusing on making it as loud as possible. “Do not speculate to what I wish, Alistair.” she dismisses, crossing her arms. “As for you Zevran, I know you cannot navigate through the forest efficiently, so I’ve acquired a mount for you.” Zevran opens his mouth to ask her if she volunteered, but Faye silences him with a raise of her finger. “And since you seem so at ease with us already, I do hope you won’t mind meeting another of our members. In fact, he’s racing up the hill behind you as we speak. Do say hello.” Zevran obilages, turning himself around to see the mount she summoned.

 “And here I thought Fereldens rode their dogs to battle-” He freezes, taking in the huge, lumbering creature loping up the hillside. “-is that…..please tell me that is just an overfed pony. I must have had a concussion, I cannot be seeing this right.” he pleads, attempting to reason with what he saw.

 Faye snorts as he turns around to look once again. “You have suffered no concussion, Zevran. What you are seeing is true.” she encourages, mouth twitching in vain. “I-I see.” he laughs nervously, turning his back on the impending beast.

 “This seems like the best time to say this, as it seems that my life will be in constant danger, what with the darkspawn, bandits, hired assassins, and your-” he looks back again, swallowing. “-your _lovely_ forest companions. So I’ll say it now before I am struck down and slain, yes?” Faye raises her eyebrows, somewhat impressed with the way he attempted to compose himself so quickly. Zevran gets down on one knee, taking Faye’s freckled hand in his. Her eyes narrow in annoyance.

 “I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time you choose to release me from it, I am your man, without reservation. This, I swear.” he kisses her hand for emphasis, gazing at the huntress though thick eyelashes.

 “Well Zevran, here is your time to shine. I suggest you stay perfectly still else you lose that pretty head of yours.” Faye smiles innocently, grin spreading wide. The look of utter terror across Zevran’s face almost tips her over the edge. “Just don’t move and you’ll be fine.” The loud snuffles of a bear mouthing the assassin’s hair sends Alistair into giggling, shaking as drool slides down Zevran’s neck. “Now would be a really great time for direction, oh lovely, sweet, merciful warden.” he gasps, gripping her hand for dear life. Faye shrugs. “Dog, down.” With the command, the bear obeys while complaining.

 “I accept your oath. Zevran, this is Dog. Dog, this is Zevran. He will be riding you to camp.” Dog moans in protest, placing his monstrous head on his paws. “Thank you!” Zevran wheezes, still frozen in place. “-wait, on second thought, is there no other way? I can walk, please let me walk or-”

 “While we’re doing introductions, I might as well introduce everyone else.” Faye interrupts, summoning her companions. “This is Morrigan, Alistair, and Sten.” she elaborates, pointing to each person in turn. “This is Elani and Blight. Stay clear of her and you’ll have no problems.” Faye finishes with the hounds, helping Zevran off his feet again. Clearing his throat, he wipes his hand on his pants, the saliva stark against the black cloth. “Now that that is out of the way, what do I call our esteemed leader? I don’t believe I ever caught your name.” He asks casually, placing a hand on his hip. Faye raises her eyebrows slightly. _Is that the game you choice, assassin?_

 “You never caught it because I never gave it. I am called Faye.” she answers. Alistair groans. “Can we move on please? Some of us are starving for actual food.” Faye nods, taking Zevran’s hand. She brings it to the bear’s nose as he stiffens with horror. Faye notices, pausing to let Zevran decide for himself. He looks at her in confusion. “It is customary to let him sniff you for acceptance.” she deadpans, letting go of his wrist. “I…..I see. Well, let’s not wait any longer, shall we?” he stalls, hesitating before presenting his hand to Dog. Sten watches with amusement when the bear sneezes on the peace offering.

 “He accepts. Now get on his back.” Zevran looks between the bear and Faye, deciding the beast the highest survival percentage. _You truly are an enigma._ He sticks his hands into the great bear’s fur, surprised at the soft plush liveness that surrounds them. “Honestly, the stories I will have by then end of this! Has anyone told you just how intriguing you are?” Faye snorts, guiding him onto Dog’s back. “Truly. You are the most fascinating woman in all of Thedas. Antivan fish wives would all turn green from envy, or perhaps from the smell of fish, who knows?” She laughs, a sweet melodic sound. “Just stay on Dog, I don’t want our newest member injured further before his first mission.” Zevran’s eyebrow raises in interest. “I do hope it involves leather. And perhaps the presence of a certain elvhen woman?” The corners of her mouth curl like the feral grin of a coyote. “If you’re ever so lucky.” Faye cooes, reaching for a leaf in his hair. His breath hitches involuntarily when she brushes his ear. _Enchantress._ Batting her lashes, she pulls the foreign object loose from his braids, releasing it into the meadow’s swaying grass.

 “If we encounter anyone, stay on his back. You’re in no shape to fight.” Zevran grabs handfuls of fur as Dog rises, now towering over the warden. “What good is an assassin who cannot kill?” He questions, her gaze lifting to his. He’s taken back slightly by the sheer intensity of her stare, a dangerous mixture of stark intelligence and depravity. _Like the crashing sea during a storm._ “That’s not something I would understand, now is it?” Zevran grasps his chest in mock pain. “A grievous wound, warden. Your tongue is as sharp as your arrows.” He glances at the shaft still protruding from his torso. “-though what other shapes can your tongue form, I wonder?” Her focus turns predatory, examining him as a wolf before the lunge. “Tell me Zevran, can you handle your blade as well as you say, I wonder?” she mocks, placing scar-flecked hands on her narrow waist.

 “This is ridiculous, we shall get no farther if you two children sit there trading fancies. Let us move on.” Morrigan demands, gesturing towards the direction of the camp. The huntress nods, coyly glancing back at the assassin before taking her place at the head, entering the forest. Dog lurches forward with a complaining groan.

 The group turns west, Faye at the front, followed by Morrigan, Sten and the canines at the rear behind the riding duo. _Trust is hard wrought, no?_ Zevran thinks, painfully aware he is riding a bear with no direction. His hands tighten with every justle. _Add this to the short list of things I have not done._ Alistair walks dutifully next to the wounded assassin, keeping himself between the two elvhen. _Like a treasure to be guarded they protect their leader._ Zevran smiles slyly, breaking into a grin when Alistair notices his attention. _Let us have a little fun, chantry mouse._

 Zevran stretches indifferently, showcasing his tattooed form to it’s best advantage. “Tell me Alistair, did you get much experience in that Chantry of yours?” Alistair groans. “Stop. Talking.” Zevran yawns, uneffected. “Come now, if we’re to be teammates we need to know each other, yes? Indulge a poor assassin.”

 “I am not discussing my _experiences_ with the likes you.” Alistair replies, keeping his gaze forward as he steps over a mass of roots. Zevran chuckles, placing tanned hands behind his head. “She’s a beauty, no? I can see why you follow her.” Alistair whips his head to the assassin. “You know nothing about her, elf.” Zevran flicks his eyes lazily to the templar. “Nothing? Did you think that we just laid an ambush and hoped some Grey Wardens fell in? No, the Crows are thorough. We research our more interesting targets. I know a great deal of her accomplishments, perhaps more than you.” Alistair squints his eyes in suspicion. “What do you know about us?” he asks, skeptical. Zevran laughs, crossing his arms. “Did I give the wrong impression, warden? I do apologize. I never give information for free.” he elaborates, shadows dancing across his skin.

 Alistair clenches his fists, reining in his anger. “That information could be damaging to our group, which thanks to Faye, you are now a part of. It would be in your best interest to share, unless, of course, I tell her and you’re left to deal with her wrath.” He smiles, attempting to stare the assassin down. “She has more than just bears and wolves, you know.” Zevran raises his eyebrows. “Is that supposed to frighten me, Alistair? I was raised by Crows and Antivan whores, you’d have to try much harder than that to unnerve me. And you see-” he sweeps his arms in front of himself. “-I am also currently riding one of her companions.” The templar’s face darkens. “Now, now, don’t get your small clothes in such a twist, we are teammates, yes? I suppose we need to work together.” he comments, patting the bears side. “You wish to know what I know? Let us begin with you.”

 Zevran seeks out the huntress through the foggy air. “Let’s see, this job was somewhat rushed, what with the Blight and all, so personal information is low. But in all, we know that you’re the bastard son of Maric. Some other little things of course, but they don’t matter now.” _Such as the time you ran naked through the barracks._ Zevran thinks, amused.

 Alistair chokes, sputtering. “How-how do you know that?! How is that possible?!” The assassin snorts in amusement, reaching for a hanging vine, sighing in disappointment when the tips of his fingers barely brush its rough exterior. “Normally, this is where I would tell you your relatives or friends or local butcher sold you out, then sink a dagger into your heavenly chiseled chest. But alas! This is not the day.” Zevran exclaimed, eyes watching the woman ahead. “It was mainly luck. When we dug into the affairs of Ostagar, it was there we discovered that your half-brother Cailan sent you to the Tower with your fellow warden to ensure the tower was lit, our suspicions made more solid. Besides bearing a striking resemblance to the late King, other things such as your connection to the Arl of Redcliff further concreted the idea. Your reaction just confirmed it.” Zevran blandly states, bored. His gaze travels along the female warden’s enticing form, eyes narrowing. _You, on the other hand, have quite the colorful background._

 “You know what? Don’t say anything else about me. What of the others?” Alistair urges. Zevran rolls his eyes. “Nothing damaging, I assure you.” The templar shakes his head, refusing to let it drop. “You told me you knew of Faye’s accomplishments. I don’t care if the guild knows of my secret, I just have to know if they know anything that can be used against her. Please.” Zevran looks back at the warden in mild surprise. _My, my, Alistair is in love? What an interesting turn of events!_

 Soft wind sighs through the forest, the breeze carrying scents of wet earth and sweet flowers. “A request! Ah, but of course, I shall have to indulge you. What is one more spit upon the Crows, yes?” he stalls, sorting the information in his head. He quickly glances back at the elf ahead. _Just how much have you told him, I wonder? How much is too much to tell?_

 Zevran cooly runs his fingers through the bear’s fur. “You wish to know what the Crows think of their target, yes? This may be surprising to hear, but she is not of any notice to them.” Alistair’s brows scrunch in thought. “That…...that is good to hear, though I am still confused. How is she not an interest to them?” The assassin tuts lightly, amused from the way the templar’s voice softens when he speaks of her. “Ah, how can I put this lightly? Your friend here is an elf, born and raised in an Alienage. She has no royal background, no government secrets, quite literally nothing of interest. She just happened to be a target of a wealthy politician because of some-” his eyes flicker back towards the woman. “-certain occurrences that lead to her recruitment and current occupation. Thus, her life is of little value towards the whole scheme of things, in the Crow’s eyes, that is.” Zevran reveals. stretching his legs. “This is quite the workout, yes? I shall have the most beautiful thighs by the end of tonight.” Alistair’s face clouds in thought, contemplating the things the assassin said. _But what lead to her recruitment, I wonder?_

 “Zevran?” The elf looks down at the templar in disinterest. “Hm? What’s this? I seem to have been upgraded from elf!” Alistair sheepishly rubs at his neck. “How did she get recruited? It’s just, Duncan never told me, and I keep forgetting to ask her myself.” Pain flits across his face, the deaths still fresh in his mind.

 The assassin watches the birds fliting from branch to branch overhead, legs burning from the ride. “Tell me Alistair, would you like it if I told Faye your secret?” he asks, fingers aching to rub his throat. “Because if my hunch is correct, you have not told her yet.”

 “No-no, please don’t! I can’t have her treating me different.” Alistair pleads, desperation in his eyes. “Then why would you ask me of her’s?” Zevran counters. Alistair grimances. “Point taken.” he mumbles.

 “Enough of these questions, I would prefer to stay on our esteemed leader’s good side while I can. Some other time, perhaps.”

 “She won’t forget this. You threatened her “pack”, something she does not forgive.” Alistair presses, gaze hardening on the assassin. “Sometimes she seems more beast than human when her emotions run high. It’s happened only twice: it was like a switch set off inside her. Speaking to her during that time is like trying to convince a starving wolf to let go of its prey.” The templar rests his hand on the pommel of his sword, remembering the slaughter of darkspawn slung outside the camp one night, her exhausted body shredding through an ogre. _Eyes like an enraged demon._ He shakes the chilling memory.

 “We will all be watching for signs of your assassiney... things.” Alistair lamely finishes. “Oh? Is that so? I will attempt to keep my “assassiney” things to a minimum, yes? Though I must point out that the hit was not, in fact, personal in any form, but merely a lowly assassin attempting to scrape by.” Unconvinced, the grey warden’s eyebrows creased. “We’ll see.” Alistair remarks, walking to his previous post between the two elvhen.

 _A beast, hm?_ Zevran musses, feeling the effects as the numbing spell slowly ebbs away. He glances at the scarcely-clad witch behind him to be met with a smug smirk. _No doubt she’s wearing it down faster. What is with these Ferelden women and their fascination with torture? Not that that’s such a bad thing, of course._ Amused, the assassin turns back around to watch the wardens before him. He probes the wounds tentatively. _Did she test me then?_ A jar causes his breath to catch on the pain, hand grasping the right side of his chest. _Did she test me twice?_ Zevran’s eyes narrow on the swaying braid far before him. _I seem to have passed, though what answers she found I do not know._ His thoughts are interrupted as Faye halts suddenly, crouching low. The bear beneath him rumbles low and fierce in response. “Stay low.” Alistair warns, signaling the others. “Darkspawn ahead.”

 Zevran grinds his teeth in frustration. _Should have kept that armor on!_ “Is there a strategy, or am I to sit here helpless?” he ventures, eyes searching for the enemy. “Do you not remember what she ordered? You stay out of the line of fire, we can handle this easily.”

 Faye whistles low, her companions changing formation at the order. “At least give me a dagger!” Zevran begs, legs and hands tightening on the rapidly accelerating bear. He quickly loses sight of the party.

 The elf gasps in pain as Dog out distances himself away from the group, bounding over exposed roots and branches. “I would appreciate it greatly if you would slow down!” he hisses at the vaulting bear, arrow head burying itself slightly deeper with every jolting contact. Dog growls, banking left. Long minuets pass as they run between the trees.

 Faye whistles again, the high pitched signal biting through Zevran’s sensitive ears. _Who is she calling now, I wonder? That is too high for a human’s hearing._ His eyes widen in horror as a spider shoots past them towards the group. “Just who is this woman?!” His voice is lost in the wind as an ogre roars, the bellow stopping the bear abruptly.

 Zevran’s body is flung through the air, tumbling and crashing violently against the forest floor. Broken bones scream as he lies on his back gasping for breath. “There is no subtlety to you beast, is there?!” he hisses, blood trickling down his chest from the torn arrow wound. Dog snarls savagely, enraged eyes boring into the downed assassin’s. “Yes, yes, I get it, you want me up, yes? It could take a moment, I seem to have broken another rib-” The bear growls harsher, head whipping towards his endangered master. Zevran groans, grabbing the beast’s thick neck. “-or now is good, I suppose. Let us return, oh Great Bear of the Forest.” The assassin grunts in pain, forcing himself onto his feet. _What is one more encounter with Death’s cold embrace?_ Dog tenses, muscles coiling and bunching beneath his coat as Zevran hauls himself onto his back.

 “Onwards, mighty steed!” he wheezes, digging his heels into the bear’s side. Curved claws propel them back towards the camp in a vault. Zevran grits his teeth as he wraps his arms around the beast’s neck, every bound and leap adding another wave of agony coursing through his battle-torn body. “Thankfully we are not far, no?” he jokes, arching his back to lessen the bite of the arrow.

 A low whine emits from the bear as they hastily retrace their steps. _That bad?_ Zevran thinks, ears picking up on the ringing clashes of metal and dull explosions. Dog increases his pace, chest heaving in his doubled efforts. Adrenaline pumps throughout the elf’s body as an arrow whizzes past his head. “Let us delay no further, friend!” The bear’s feet increase more in earnest. Shrieks of wounded and dying darkspawn falling among their charging brethren reaches their ears before the scent does, the wet decaying smell spreading like a disease. Faye screams in desperate frustration, her howl of outrage piercing the noise-filled air as the team tears through to the battle. Zevran eye’s quickly dilate in alarm. _What is going on?!_

 Faye’s writhing body kicks at the ogres clenched hand, her righteous cry cut short as she sinks her teeth into its blood-splattered fingers. The horned monster snorts in annoyance, turning away from the battle. Dog immediately barrels for the retreating darkspawn. _Why isn’t it killing her?!_ Zevran frantically searches for the rest of the team in the chaos, spotting the other three fighting through the ranks of darkspawn far behind, hounds breaking off in pursuit of their leader. Forest earth shakes as the ogre increase his speed.

 The elf groans, trembling limbs threatening to give from exhaustion and pain. “It is up to us to save the damsel in distress, no?” he mutters to himself.

 A hurlock charges the duo, blade crashing towards the neck of the bear. Zevran hisses in agony as the steel connects with his palm, blood spraying the darkspawn as he wrenches the weapon out of its grasp. _Oh, the things I do for you!_ The bear drives forward in renewed speed, each arrow and slice of a blade pushing him faster towards the woman in reckless abandon. Elani and Blight shoot forward, their fangs slashing calf and tendon in fervent hope of slowing the darkspawn down.

 The ogre slides down the river bank, loosing the hounds in the raging water, their frustrated snarls lost in the torrent. Grunting in frustration, Dog chases the monster along the steep banks, quickly gaining precious ground. Faye’s feral glare catches Zevran’s as they trail mere feet from its retreating backside. “Do it!” she screams, blood-soaked hair plastered to her face. “Do wha-” The bear’s muscles coil, preparing to spring off the ridge. Eyes widening in understanding, the elvhen assassin takes the blade’s leather-wrapped handle in his teeth. Vomit threatens at the taste of the poison and gore. _May Andraste smile upon us._ Dog leaps with a savage roar as they dive off the cliff.

 Zevran launches off the bear, shoulder nearly retching out of socket when he entangles himself in the monster’s horns. _Shit!_ The sudden weight forced upon one antler throws the ogre off-balance, feet slipping erratically until Dog collides on its back, claws and teeth tearing into sinew and blighted flesh as he downs the unsteady enemy. _Shit shit shit shit shit!_ He quickly brings the dagger into his torn palm, freeing his mouth. “Hold your breath!” he screams, wrapping his legs on twisted bone. Zevran tightens his grip on the rack as water engulfs them.

  _NO!_ The blade is torn from his wounded hand, lost in the raging river. He gasps and coughs for air as they surface, ogre managing to keep hold of Faye by a leg. She twists desperately to free herself, various knifes and daggers all impaled along the beast’s meaty arm like metallic bristles. Her scream rips through her throat as they roll into the water again.

 The ogre manages to right itself after the second tumble, bleeding profusely but yet still stubbornly struggles its way to the river bank. “Great time to lose a knife, Zevran!” he scolds himself, still hacking up water. It grunts in pain, dirt and roots pulled in its determined escape. Zevran locks eyes with Faye, her face twisted wild and feral in her torment. “Weapon!” he bellows, chest heaving. She freezes in recognition. Zevran watches in amazement as she arcs around, barely managing to rip a dagger free as she is flung upside down again. The blade impales itself with a wet thunk into the ogre’s neck.

 Growling in rage, it shakes its head vigorously to dislodge the assassin, feverishly close to scrambling up the side. “Do not think I am thrown that easily, you smelly piece of-” Zevran’s hold slips, sliding to the tip of the horn. _Marker!_ The assassin’s grip tightens in stark fear as a spider launches from the tree above, shooting web and venom into the ogre’s face. “Of all things, why spiders?!” he yells, clambering down the antlers to retrieve the blade as the arachnid distracts the beast. Acidic guts spray his face when the ogre’s hand squashes it with a smack.  _It’s now or never!_ Legs clutching onto the base of the horn, Zevran flips upside down, his fingers curling around the handle, pulling the blade free.

 Swinging dangerously, Zevran strikes at the throat, blighted blood spraying into his face as a meaty paw grabs and throws him clear onto the other bank. The assassin does not rise as unconsciousness overtakes him again.

* * * * * * * * * *


	2. Horrors of Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Qunlat  
> -Elven

***   *   *   ***

Faye trembles, leaning heavily onto the qunari. “I will survive, Wynne. You must prioritize them, I’ll be fine.” Sten glowers, glaring at the stubborn elf struggling in his lap.

“Hush child, everything will be alright. I will make energy for all of you.” Faye shakes her head, knees buckling as she stands. “Them first, it’s my fault they got caught up in this.” Wynne scoffs from the remark, green light encasing the qunari’s elbow. “There is no way this is your fault, do not push false guilt upon yourself.” Faye opens her mouth to speak, but the mage silences her. “Since you are so pigheaded, I will abide by your wish. If you can, go to my tent to wash up, you stink like darkspawn. Check on that assassin while you’re in there.” Faye nods, wobbling away like a newborn fawn discovering its legs for the first time. Wynne shakes her head, focusing on the wound before her. _Stupid child._

The elf grits her teeth, forcing herself to keep moving, near-dawn sky black with rolling clouds. _Step, breath, step, exhale. Repeat._ Her fingers grip the tent’s woven flap. _We must decide soon, Da’len._ Lips purse thin in acknowledgement, a line of torn emotions. _I know._ She casts the weathered linen behind her, stepping into the oil-lit room as far-off thunder rumbles. _Do you truly?_ Eyes falling on the sleeping assassin, her resolve wavers. _Just not when._ The light tapping of splattering raindrops is the only answer to her now empty thoughts.

Swallowing her pain and indecision, her legs move gently, callused feet silently drifting to the bed roll in forced grace. Every step, every breath, every barely hidden thought builds on the torment, and yet she still hovers over his form, hesitating before touching blood-flaked fingers lightly onto his bronze skin. _My fault._ She caresses his face delicately, blond strands swept beneath her touch. _My fault._ Teeth catch her lips as she reins in the threatening tears. _But I will **not** cry._ Her hands ache to hold, her soul aches to scream. But she moves her feet, the other’s warmth lost to the chill of the damp air as she crosses to the wash basin. Shaking palms grip soiled clothes, pulling them over head and legs, casting them aside in an abandoned heap on the ground. Angry, welted flesh greets her gaze, purple and tender and red. _I will not._

Lightning flashes, thunder rolling in brazen answer and Zevran fully wakes to the boom and the huntress’s  fleeting touch, lashes fluttering open to the woman before him. She shakes, trembling as she drips a cloth into the water, rubbing tentatively on her gore covered body, naked frame facing away from him. His chest tightens in pity as he takes in the sight of the frighteningly large hand shaped bruises decorating her skin like splashes of nightlock dye. Goosebumps raise against her flesh as cool, moist, storm air blows into the tent, snaking around her body unashamedly. _As well as your gaze._ A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he closes his eyes again.

“Deadly and beautiful. Is there anything you are not?” He hears her breath catch in surprise, his smirk spreading across his face. A wet splat and a hiss of anger before scuffling feet. “Clean.” Zevran laughs, covering his eyes with a free hand as he pulls himself upright. “With your permission, that is a problem I can easily solve without complaint.” Loud impacts of rain fill the silence of the tent, flashes of lightning cascading through the fervent storm. Long seconds pass and Zevran begins to worry if he offended her until a soft, vulnerable _please_ escapes her lips like a discarded secret. “I am yours to command.” he replies, removing his hand.

Her eyes swim in guilt and anger, uncountable emotions crashing like entrapped ships collapsing in the maw of a whirlpool. His heart lurches uncomfortably, unused to the wave of compassion he feels as he sits her on a stool, taking the cold, damp rag in his hands. _I could kill her here, go back to the crows. It would be so easy in her state._ He dips it into the basin, flashes of electricity racing across the sky. He squeezes the excess water out of the cloth. _I could, but I won’t._ Faye shivers suddenly, fighting vainly to control the tremors. _Why save her before to kill her now?_ A smirk tugs at his lips and he sighs, leaning in close.

“While I can think of _many_ exciting and breathless activities we could do to stay warm-” he implies, breath hot against her neck. “-a blanket should suffice for tonight, yes?” He reaches back, grabbing the one of the furs behind him. “Unless of course you decide mere furs too unpleasant for your woodland tastes.”

She rotates her arm back, hand receiving the skins. “Is that so? I seem to remember you actually dropping your blade in the heat of battle. I’m sure Wynne has a potion for your _certain_ condition.” Faye offers sweetly, covering her lap with the furs. Zevran laughs, dabbing the dried blood off her bruised back. “You wound me again! I assure you, my blade handling skills are well above average, warden.”

“Faye.”

“Hm?” Zevran replies, rewetting the soiled rag. “My name is not _warden_ , it is Faye.” she elaborates, fingers working nimbly as they untangle her nest of hair from the unrecognizable braid it once was. “I do not wish to be called by my occupation.” she states. Zevran smiles playfully, white teeth flashing in the oil-light.

“Perhaps you could help me, _Faye_ -” he begins, antivan accent low and smooth. “-I have some questions that need answers, as I seem to have the unfortunate habit of falling unconscious near the end of battles.” Faye stiffens, hands freezing mid-tangle. “Not to insult you or the merry band of misfits you have collected, but how did a darkspawn horde of that magnitude escape the notice of not only two grey wardens, but the rest of your party as well?”

She releases the soiled hair, golden strands dulled by the dried remains of river mud and leftover darkspawn blood. “I don’t seem to remember you warning of the impending battle either. As for Alistair and I, we knew there were darkspawn nearby, but not the number or location. Something in the forest was interfering with our abilities.” Her fist tightens in frustration on her lap. Zevran tuts in acknowledgement, moving to her lower back. “Is that so? If that is the case, I dread to think of what else this forest conceals.” _Blood mages. Werewolves. Demons. Spirits of the dead. Possessed trees._ Faye checks off silently. “You would not sleep well knowing.”

Thunder booms, rain pelting the sides of the tent. _It should be dawn soon._ The huntress relaxes under Zevran’s tender care. He works diligently, singing softly under his breath, the notes rising hauntingly as he hums an unfamiliar tune. “Zevran?” She rearranges the furs, restless hands always at work. “Yes?” he purrs, fingers kneading into her sore flesh, dirty rag discarded. She sighs in approval as he massages a knot in her back. “How much do you remember?”

“Hmm, let’s see.” he starts, stepping in closer, heat radiating off his bare skin. “Ah yes, well, I was riding your forest friend in the woods when the ogre first roared, that’s where Dog then threw me off. I got back on after breaking another rib, no less!-” he laughs, getting into his story. _He smells really good._ A blush pricks at the tips of her ears as he presses into her, fingers still massaging. “-after that, we were sprinting back, poisoned arrows flying past my head, when we see you being whisked away by this monster as your companions are held up by another opposing group. I still can’t believe you bit that thing!” Faye snorts, running her tongue along her teeth. _Disgusting._ “So we chase you down into the river and your hounds dive in as we’re lopping along the river bank, and you just scream for us to jump, so your idiot bear obeys and I’m left scrambling on this ogre’s horn. We all tumble into the water, you threw that dagger for me, and I somehow was able to slice the neck before getting violently thrown. Again.” He moves on the her shoulders, working the muscles, tone turning solem. “My condolences on the spider. He, she, died a hero’s death. Without its sacrifice I doubt we would be here.”

“‘Thank you.” Faye replies, touched he even remembered. “Her name was Falon, for she was a friend when I needed one most. I will not forget her bravery.” She bites the inside of her cheek, forcing the mask of calm over her emotions. _A dear friend._ “I assume you wish to hear the rest of the story?”

_Red, anger, fear, blood, release, sweet release. Empty gaze and empty grip, escape, finally able to fight. Flesh and bone under steel and vengeance. Gaping chest and bloodied hands. Over, yet not. Still-_

Zevran hums in agreement, bringing the huntress back into reality. She leans in his frame to steady herself. The assassin’s eyebrow raises in vague surprise. _What is your desire, warden? Why do you shake?_

She takes a deep breath, thunder sounding farther away. “After you attempted to slay the ogre and were thrown, I was dropped into the river. It was still alive, ignoring its wounds as it grabbed ahold of me again, blood streaming down its neck and chest.” His hands cease for a moment as he listens, resuming only after she begins again. “When it had me before, it was gentle, collected, as if I was a priceless item. Now panicked, it squeezed harder, forming these bruises. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move as it climbed the bank again. I’m not sure how, but it slipped, accidentally releasing me onto the ground. I did not stay there for long.” Cold anger radiates from her sitting form, suddenly tense. “That _monster_ had made a grave mistake when it dropped me. I do not remember much after the release, but I came to covered in burning blood, its chest unrecognizable, ripped open and draining into the moss. Sten was physically restraining me.” Her eyes close from the memory. _Not enough, never enough. More blood, more fear, more death, never stop, always free, always hunger, never stop-_

Zevran runs a hand over her dirtied hair, soothing her once again. “He told me to come back. And I heard him. He called me Katari. I was _dripping_ in its tainted blood and flesh.” She forces herself to relax. “After I was brought to, we went looking for you. Elani found you at the base of a tree. You should have been dead with your injuries, but yet you still lived.” She pauses, digging fingers into the fur. “Sten carried you to camp. You wouldn’t remember her, but the woman who healed you is called Wynne. It took her the rest of the day and part of this night to put you into full condition with Morrigan’s help.” She tenses involuntarily. “Falon was the only casualty.”

His grip tightens on her shoulders. “I am grateful for what you all have sacrificed. Thank you for saving me.” Faye shakes her head, turning to meet his gaze. “It is I who should be grateful. Without you, I would have been lost to the blight. Your loyalty has been proven in my eyes.” The assassin smiles, lips curling mischieviously as he closes the gap, a hair’s width away from hers. “Oh? And what can this simple elf expect in return?”

Faye reaches, freckled hand cupping his cheek. “Another chance at life.” she offers, lips gently placing a kiss on the stunned man’s forehead. Her hands grab the furs, wrapping them slowly around her exposed flesh as she rises. Zevran’s eyes reflect the dancing light in widened dismay. _What?!_ Her arm brushes back the flap of the tent.

“You cannot leave with that, no, that is not something you can offer!” his voice raises in alarm, fear. She smiles sadly, wind and rain embracing her skin like falling teardrops. “You are worth something. _**Never**_ forget that.”

With that she leaves, leaving the assassin reeling in confusion as she makes her way to her tent. Mud and water splash her legs, tiny drops trickling down muscled calves. Rays of light break over the horizon, birds singing their morning melodies. Her hand grips the leather fastening with care. _Are you lonely, Da’len?_ The knots slide free under her dexterous fingers and she steps inside, darkness greeting her entry. _Do not ask me questions you already know the answer to, Banal’ras._ A wave of sympathy and sorrow laps on the edges of her mind as she burrows into her bed. _Forgive me, I did not wish to offend. I…..do not have much experience with your kind, your confusing emotions and way of things. I only wished to know what you desired so I could offer you my help._ Faye sighs, pulling the furs close around her. _I know what you desire. You wish for freedom, for a body to call your own. You want to taste the air and feel the grass beneath your own feet. To hunt. To love._ The consciousness recoils slightly, wary of Faye’s intuition. _I was not aware I could be read so easily. I will do my best to keep my thoughts to myself from now on._ The elf rolls her eyes. _Don’t bother, I could use the company._ Tired muscles relax in the warmth the furs provide, sleep creeping silently. _I will keep that in mind._

*****   *   *   ***  
**

_“Shianni!” Red hair splays on the sticky red stones, torn dress and dirtied face. “I’m here, I’m here, it’s okay, I’m here.” Her head cradles in my lap, limp and tired and broken. “Don’t leave me alone, please, **please** take me home.” My heart breaks, clutching her trembling body to steady her whimpers. “I’ve got you, it’s alright now.” Her lip trembles. “Oh god, the blood…..it’s… it’s **everywhere.** There’s so much...” Nails dig into my arms. “You killed them, didn’t you? You killed them all?” Cold steel flows through my veins as I nod. “Like dogs, Shianni. I made them **pay.** ” Her hands push off my chest, slamming me into the floor. She laughs, bitter and angry and cracked._

_“Does it matter? Does anything you ever do matter!?” Her voice breaks, shouting. “You’re never here when people need you most! You’re always late, death and misfortune following you like chained slaves! Why can’t you make a difference? Why can’t you save us!?”_

_“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Shianni.” I whisper. “You’re sorry? Fat lot of good that does for me! I was **raped** because you couldn’t save me! Used! And now-” Pain shoots across my body as she kicks my side. “-you’re a Grey Warden? How can you save a whole country if you couldn’t even save me!? You’re a curse, Faye! Less. Than. Worthless. You’ve been cursed since the day you were born, covered in your mother’s dying blood.” Her heel digs into my chest and I gasp from the pain. My fault, my fault, never here, always late-  “I guess she was your first kill, huh? How does it feel to have blood on your hands before you could even speak? Before you could crawl? Everyone you love ends up dying or wishing they were dead!” Her face leans towards mine, fist socking into my stomach. “And you’ll be the only one left.”_

***   *   *   ***

Faye wakes up in a sweat, chest heaving. The mabari licks her face again and whines. _It was a nightmare, Da’len._ The elf throws off the furs, her hands shaking. _I know._ Her fingers tremble as they rake through her dirty hair. _Shianni does not blame you._ Faye remains silent, standing up. The consciousness holds its tongue, hesitant. _It seems someone has healed us while we slept._ Her hands probe the blemishless flesh in annoyance. “I told her to save energy, that woman.” Faye mumbles, grabbing fresh bindings and underclothes. Her fingers move unconsciously as she wraps the supportive bandages around her chest. “I suppose it’s time to move again, yes? Do you know how long I slept?” Blight growls lovingly, butting his head against her bare legs. “No, I suppose I forgot that you do not keep track of time like Elani does. No matter, I’m sure everyone is well-rested now.” The mabari wiggles out of her reach, impatiently waiting by the flap as his master dons the lightweight armor over her scar riddled body. The bow slides onto her back silently.

Faye exists the tent, blinking in the overbearing sunlight as the hound streaks past the campfire and into the woods, dying embers smoking slightly in the clearings breeze. The elf’s ears prick in delight, the smells of Wynne’s cooking dancing on the wind. Her companions greet her with smiles and a impassive, slightly relieved stare in Sten’s case.

“Look at who decided to rejoin the land of the living! Tell me-” Oghren bleaches, already somewhat intoxicated. “-do you have another ogre tooth for your collection?” Faye grins, grabbing a bowl of stew from her small friend. “It fits nicely among the others.” The dwarf laughs, hiccuping. “How- *hic*-how many does that make now?” Faye spoons the food into her mouth, silently counting as she sits on the boulder with him. “27.” Oghren punches her shoulder in delighted surprise.

Wynne sniffs in disdain, dabbing a napkin at her wrinkled lips. “What a nasty collection. Why on earth would you want their teeth?” The others look at Faye in curiosity, Leliana and Alistair looking slightly green at the thought. “Why, to make something out of them, of course! I was thinking a belt, or perhaps having the Dalish craftmaster Varathorn shape them into a solid bow or something.” Oghren snorts, choking slightly on his stew. _A belt, ha!_

“Can he even do that?” Leliana asks, pausing from the task of sharpening her blades. “Well, I thought if maybe they can shape metal and wood together, why not bone? I’ll see when we return to their encampment.” Faye replies, eating another spoonful of food. Her face darkens when she remembers the conditions. “Speaking of the Dalish, has everyone recovered from the last battle? We have unfinished business over there that I want to resolve quickly.”

“You were the last one like you asked. Everyone has healed to a healthy state-” Wynne begins, pointed gaze glaring at the dozing assassin sleeping against his pack. “-though _he_ almost became a chew toy after laughing at Elani when she fell in a creek. He’s lucky she listens to Sten, or he would have had quite the time with her wrath.” Faye glances at Zevran in amusement. _Stupid._

The huntress ditches the spoon to chug the rest of the stew, Oghren still laughing to himself about the oversized belt. “How long was I out? I’m absolutely starving!” she exclaims, serving herself another helping.

“Two days. We gave up on waking you up when Alistair was socked in the face after trying to rouse you.” Morrigan deadpans, polishing her staff. The grey warden rubs his neck as a blush creeps to his ears. “I am so sorry, Alistair!” Faye apologizes, a smile betraying her as it twitches at the corners of her lips. He shakes his head, removing his hand. “It’s alright, I should have remembered the last time I tried to wake you up. I’ll remember my lesson from now on.”

Faye nods, scooping spoonfuls quickly into her mouth. Her eyes quickly scan the people before her. _Morrigan, Sten, Alistair, Wynne, Leliana, Oghren, Zevran, Blight, Elani, Dog, Fal-_ She freezes mid-bite. _I’m sorry, Da’len, I understand she meant a lot to you._ Faye shoves the food forcibly into her mouth, appetite lost. _Thank you._

The assassin stretches, yawning loudly as he removes the cloth covering his face. His eyebrows raise in surprise as he sees the elf before him. “It seems I have missed our esteemed leader’s entrance. How thoughtless of me!” Zevran exclaims, rearranging himself on his pack. “Dare I ask what breathless and invigorating activities you have planned for us today?” Alistair groans, standing up. “And we thought Oghren was bad. You have no idea what we’ve had to deal with as you lazied around.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that I’m worse, you nug humping basta-”  Faye catches her drunk friend as he pitches forward, rolling her eyes as she leans him against the boulder he was once on. “Sober up you drunk, we’re going to the Dalish today.” Oghren groans, cursing about nature loving elves. “Hush, you know the tree have ears.” _Trees don’t have ears._ Holding in her own laughter, Faye stands up. _There’s this thing we mortals like to call humor. Learn it sometime._

The huntress whistles, calling the animals back from the woods. “Morrigan, Leliana, Alistair, I need you to stay and watch camp tonight. Dog and Blight will stay here with you. Wynne, Oghren, Sten, Zevran, you will come with me and Elani to the Dalish encampment.” Faye orders, filling the empty quiver with arrows. “Be wary of the forest, for it will deceive you into becoming lost in its depths. That goes for everyone.” Her eyes pointedly stare at everyone before settling on Leliana. “You are in charge while I am gone. Make sure that no one wanders away. If we require assistance, I will send Elani. Do not believe anything else, no matter what you hear or see. Something in this place wants us gone or dead.” _I have an inkling of who this something is, but she is wrong, different somehow._ “If we are not back by nightfall, do not pursue us. Be safe and remember my warnings.” The bard nods, red hair stark against the greenery. _Then we will be extra vigilant._

“As for the rest of you, get your equipment together. I’ll return soon, I need to wash up.” She turns around and quickly disappears in the brush, wolf following silently as the assassin watches in confusion.

“To be clear, we’re _not_ to go in the creepy forest alone?” Zevran asks, pushing himself off the grass. Oghren grunts in reply. “Then why exactly is she going in alone?”

The dwarf groans, suiting up. “Get with the program, newbie. You’ve noticed her little forest tricks, yeah? The way animals just seem to gravitate towards her? Don’t tell me you’re sodding blind, she has a bear for ancestor’s sake!”

Zevran shakes his head, white teeth flashing. “Trust me, I’ve noticed. I had to ride that bear.” The dwarf grumbles, almost pouting. “She’s never let me ride him. Do you think you could convince her?”

“I can try, my short friend.” The assassin replies, mirth coating his voice. “You better watch your tongue elf, before I decide you’re not funny anymore.” Oghren shoots back, words slightly slurred. “Oh? We couldn’t have that, not unless you were charging at me on the back of a Great Bear.”

Oghren grins, fastening his armor. “Heh. To get back to your earlier question; she’s a ranger. She’s not like any ranger I’ve met, but that isn’t the point. The point is-” he belches, breath stinking of ale. “-is that she can speak to the animals or something. We don’t know how, but she can. So sometimes she’ll go into an area alone to listen to them things so we have an idea of what’s about. Really cool. She actually had some birds spy on these nobles this one time. Got a lot of blackmail that way.” Oghren pauses, thinking. He tugs on his beard.

The dwarf suddenly meets Zevran’s eyes with bloodshot ones of his own. “Never, and when I say never, I mean **_never,_** ever try to lie to her. That elf is wicked smart and her instincts have never been wrong. If you ever find yourself in a situation with her where you have to lie, just don’t say anything at all. At least that way she can’t figure her way through your head.”

Zevran smiles down at the drunk. _Truly? That is good to know._ “Thank you, Oghren, I will have to remember that in the future.” The dwarf snorts, resuming his preparations. “It’ll come sooner than you believe.”

The assassin stretches again, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I will catch up with you later, my drunken friend. I have some _assassiny_ things to finish.” Oghren grunts, looking back towards the forest. _Elves._

***   *   *   ***

_Do you know why the veil is so thin here, Banal’ras?_ The creek gurgles, cool water flowing over her skin. _That is not something I wish to speak of._ Faye’s fingers dig into her scalp, working the gore and dirt out of the golden strands. _I suppose we all have our secrets, yes? Don’t worry about it._ Her eyes gaze at the swaying canopy above. The wolf sighs, resting her mottled grey head on damp paws, silently watching the forest around them. Faye rubs her hands over her body, rinsing herself in the pool. The slow current drags small leaves and flower petals like little ships.

The elf hums incoherently, holding her breath as she quickly dunks her head underwater again to remerge. “It is time to leave, hm Elani?”The wolf looks at the bathing woman in slight irritation, huffing. Faye exits the water, scrambling onto the mossy bank to she find her discarded clothes and armor. _What is that assassin to you?_ The cloth bites into her flesh as she wraps the chest supports around her torso. _You ask quite personal questions for someone who deems never to answer mine._ Foggy anger swirls on the edge of her mind like a swarm of wasps. _You are a child. Responsibility and duty are foreign to you, trifling matters that are shoved out of thought. Leave your friends and they will be spared! Isn’t that what you want?!_ Elani bristles, lips curling back towards the far-off forest as a howl sounds. _Do not try to manipulate me to do your bidding, Banal’ras! They knew the moment they joined that no one is safe from harm._ The consciousness seethes and ripples with frustration. _Did they truly? Tell me, how many would stay if they knew the truth? That darkspawn attract to you like moths to flame, that by staying they are sentencing themselves to death? Every day you stay is another day they are in danger. Let us leave so they may live!_ The elf slides her armor on, jaw clenching in anger. _Duty! Responsibility! You expect me to defeat the blight on my own?! They are warriors, friends, people fighting to give this land a chance! There will come a time for me to leave, but this is not that time. Until then, I will accept the help they offer. So do not lecture me like you harbor some sort of loyalty to this land you all abandoned._

Elani snarls, fangs flashing in warning as the brush moves. _When one of them dies, that is when you will see your mistake._ Faye’s fingers wrap around her bow, arrows held ready. _I’ll make sure they don’t. I will **not** be late._ The arrows fly, piercing the creature upon impact with a shower of blood and a scream. Elani lunges into the vegetation with the huntress following quickly.

Eyes narrowing, Faye knocks the limps out of her way as she approaches the dark, screeching form. She pins the creature with her knees. _And if leaving them is the only way to ensure their survival, then I will do it without hesitation._ Steel slides across its throat, burning blood spraying her armor. _If running straight into the Archdemon’s maw is the only way to save them, then I will do it gladly._ She sinks her dagger into the thrashing genlock’s heart, its breath and tainted life frothing in crimson bubbles at the laceration. _If becoming death itself is the only way to save them, then I will go in flood of blood. You underestimate my conviction and pride. I **will** save them all, even if it costs me everything._

***   *   *   ***

The rest of the party walks towards the duo. “Are you two prepared? We will be leaving soon.” Wynne asks, Sten silently following behind her.

The antivan grins, eyes bright. “Ah, like a refreshing morning mist you return!” The mage’s nose squishes in annoyance as the elvhen assassin continues. “What is your secret? Many women would pay good gold to know how you keep your bosom so perk-”

Faye whacks the back of Zevran’s head, having returned from the her tent, ogre fangs secured on her belt. “Don’t harrass our grandma, Zevran.” The elf unbends, looking slightly disheveled with his now messy hair. “I jest, I jest. It is just a little fun, no?” Wynne rolls her eyes in response.

Faye glares into the wilderness, wisps of blond hair floating with the soft wind. “Let’s move out while we still have morning light.” She turns around to face the camp. Zevran’s eyes narrow, wary of her clenched jaw and stiff stance. _Why so tense?_ A mask of indifference slides onto her face, braid swaying as she passes him. _Let’s lighten you up, no?_ He places gloved hands behind his head, matching her stride as they enter the forest. Her cold eyes flit towards him impassively. _Feisty today!_

The assassin grins lazily, gracefully stepping over exposed roots and moss-covered rocks. “It is good to see you so cheerful this morning, no? You are positively beaming with radiance!” he playfully observes. His lips curl further with amusement as her nostrils flare slightly. “Tell me, what places you in this wondrous, lovely mood?”

Faye scoffs, carefully maneuvering around the tangle of roots underfoot. “Tell me, what makes you so insufferable?” she deadpans, annoyed. The assassin’s grin only spreads wider at her response. “Perhaps it’s the antivan accent? The dashing good looks? The biting wit?” He examines his nails. “Or could it possibly be your _infatuation_ with me that infuriates you so?” he asks, eyebrows raised in question. “Infatuation?” she mocks. “You overestimate your game.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, you already consider it a game, no? Just what I wonder is exactly the prize, hm?”

“Some piece of quiet, I hope.” Oghren grumbles, glaring at the elves. The huntress turns right, following an almost invisible trail. Tutting in disapointment, Zevran steps through the foggy mist, rays of light casting ripplings shadows of trees on the moist earth. Damp, fallen needles cushion the party’s feet, muffling the clank of heavy armor boots. _Like the clanging of pots._ A smile tugs on his lips. Faye’s braid dances before them, disappearing with a leap as she hurtles over a long fallen tree. The dwarf grunts as he clamors over its rotting bark. Wynne huffs, a crown of sweat beading on her forehead, Sten offering his strength for support as she climbs over as well. Zevran quickly and quietly clears the obstacle like a flickering shadow.

Elani slinks into view, fog rippling and contouring around her molted grey coat, moving as a ghost. She growls slightly as Zevran moves closer to the front, the elf’s ears twitching in acknowledgement as she places herself between the two. Faye slows, holding a hand in the air in warning. Her finger points to an oddly twisted tree, the bark and leaves different than the conifers towering around them. She instantly signals for silence as the branches move suspiciously without the wind.

Faye searches for Wynne with her gaze, mouthing the word _fire_ and pointing to the jerking tree. Rapidly, it’s engulfed in flames, creening and screeching as the bellowing heat spreads across its writhing form. The wolf braces herself as it falls onto the forest floor, suddenly silent.

Oghren let’s out a pent up breath, releasing his hold on the handle of his war axe.”What the hell was that thing!?” Wynne dispels the magic, suffocating the burning fire. “A sylvan, if I remember correctly. It has been many years since I’ve read the Brecilian tomes in the Tower.” she replies. Faye nods in agreement, examining the felled enemy for movement. “This is why dwarves avoid the surface. Stupid moving trees.” Oghren grumbles, watching the charred remains disintegrate into ash after the elf pokes it.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side, yes?” Zevran asks, impressed with the level of control Wynne exercised with her magic. The mage’s become slightly mischievous at his remark, as if thinking of a devious plan.

“We’re almost there, only about three fourths of a mile to go. Zevran?” The assassin perks up, facing their leader. “Yes? How can I help?” he asks, meeting her stare. Cold and calculating, her eyes betray no emotion as she slowly runs her gaze down his form. _Icey._ “As an assassin, you are well versed in traps, yes?” she questions, voice holding no sentiment.

“Ah, but of course! I am also well versed in _many_ other things if you’re interested.” he implies luridly, eyebrows arching.

“Get to the front.” Slightly confused, the antivan moves to the point. Faye juts out her chin towards the direction of the forest elves. “The Dalish have no doubt laid traps around the area of their camp. I will direct you on the way to go, but you must ensure the path is safe.” she elaborates, directing him to her side. “Wynne?” The mage looks up, finding the concerned elf watching her. “Yes?” The young woman’s features soften, a hard determination setting in. “If he’s here, we’ll find him.”

Wynne’s eyes widen in disbelief. “No, no, that’s not necessary, I don’t want us to waste any time-” Faye holds up her hand, shaking her head. “It is not a waste. We’ll find him, no matter what.” The mage nods slowly, tears pricking slightly. “Thank you.”

Faye smiles softly, the uplift of her lips quickly dissipating into a distant expression. “Let us hope the antivan can live up to his talk.” Her eyes piece into his. "Because if not, I will  _personally_ ensure it won't be the case again."


End file.
